


In Desperation

by May



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dream Bubbles, F/F, Kissing, Rainbow Drinkers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May/pseuds/May
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You see her, sometimes, in the bubbles. You know that she’s sleeping in the darkness, somewhere but, here, she sits on trimmed grass in a manicured circle. The sun tilts down towards her, much softer and kinder than it really should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HSWC 2014 bonus round 2 for the prompt 'désespoir de cause'.

Sometimes, you think about the freckles that might still be there, hidden in Kanaya’s glow. The ones that she had when she was little, living under the sun and going where the rest of you couldn’t. You can’t say that the things that she got to explore in golden-red light didn’t make you just a little envious. After you died, bright things were shadows and you were caught and dragged along even though death had stopped you.

You have resolved never to die ever again and you see her, sometimes, in the bubbles. You know that she’s sleeping in the darkness, somewhere but, here, she sits on trimmed grass in a manicured circle. The sun tilts down towards her, much softer and kinder than it really should be. You guess that it’s nothing but a reflection on the surface of the bubble. Her skin catches the light and sends it back. You remember her face from before, sweet and small boned, her nose thin and long and her eyes round and dark like marbles. She’s matured since then, but not so much that you can’t see the girl in there.

Her knees are tucked to her chest and you fold your own legs when you sit down next to her. She doesn’t turn to look at you, and you let your wings flutter a little.

“This is always my memory, isn’t it?” she says. “There’s no reason why it would be anybody else’s. Nobody else has ever spent time under the sun. Except Terezi, but I am fairly sure that that would be a nightmare. And the humans, although their sun is yellow.”

You smile. “There’s some others, but I’m not sure how many other Maryams you’ve met at this point. They’re nice, though, for when you do.” You don’t keep tabs that tight. You look at her profile, at the line of her cheekbone where she’s lost a little young fat. You want to trace it where the sun casts a shadow.

She turns to look at you, and you don’t catch a hint of any freckle underneath the glow; you guess a dream of a sun isn’t quite enough. Her eyes dart over your face, the rims of her irises green as a forest. “It wouldn’t hurt you, would it? It’s not real.”

Something presses behind Kanaya’s face and it brings a cold shine to her eyes. You already know who’s a coward, who’s vacant and who’s lost, so you don’t need to ask and you certainly don’t need to tell her anything, either.

“Nope, doesn’t hurt at all.” You prefer her glow, anyway. It’s an aura around her face, and you wonder if your fingertips would sink into her light and disappear.

“You seem to be beginning to pick up a suntan.” She says, and she actually gives you a moment to smile. “That was a joke. I don’t even know if non-diurnal trolls can get suntans. I think you would just burn.”

“Even if I could, it’s still just yours,” you say, and her brow furrows and not out of confusion. Elsewhere, you are still sharply, achingly pale for Sollux, and you’re pretty sure that you don’t want to kiss her out of comfort, anyway. It really does seem like you’d sink in if you kissed her on her forehead or on her cheek, so you concentrate on her mouth, neat and dark, her fangs pressed against her bottom lip.

“Are you going to kiss me?” she asks.

“I would like to?” And, when you do, Kanaya parts her lips to let you in, her fangs gently grazing yours. She grips you by the arms and you pull yourself closer. She falls back onto the remembered grass and you with her. The sun, you think, is almost warm.

You rest one of your hands on her hip as you kiss her, and the other on the ground beside her shoulder. Kanaya’s arms are circled loosely around you, and you move one hand up the length of her torso until your palm rests against the purple, thickly woven sash around her middle. There are gentle curves where she dips inwards but, at her gut, your thumb brushes against something unnatural. You’re fascinated, but you twitch away out of respect.

Kanaya slows, becomes less involved in your kissing and pulls her head back. You feel her hand push down, uncertain, and rest on her sash, even though she must have had it for at least a couple of months at this point. You sit up and sit back, to give her space.

She kneels and rests her hands against her knees. “I find it hard to believe that you don’t know already. So.” She moves her hands to take the ends of the sash where it’s tied into a bow and pulls it undone. When it unravels, Kanaya places it to the side and then pulls her own shirt over her head. And the hole is still there, beneath where her breasts lay.

It’s not perfectly round, and the edges are jagged where the skin has healed over torn flesh and, inside, it’s dried brackish green. You let one hand hover in the gap and only withdraw when you hear Kanaya take a quick, sharp breath. You once had a metal shell, your spirit stuffed in there between the wires. On top of still not being quite you, you were also what he wanted you to be and then a different thing, entirely. If Equius had known how it had felt when Vriska broke under your fist, he would have said that it was your new blood. But you knew that you hadn’t, suddenly, become one of the spoiled, hateful children. That wasn’t what it was.

“Are you hungry?” Kanaya’s eyes turn downwards and you wonder if she ever really isn’t.

You push back your hood and pull the top of your god tier garb over your head. She frowns, watching you as you pull your hair away from your neck.

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t fed from all kinds of places.” You know that didn’t come across as cruel, though there is a flush of light embarrassment under her glow. Kanaya pulls herself forward to straddle your lap. You notice that there’s very little internal warmth to her, and not because of her hemotype. You hold her, gently, your hands loose around her back as her teeth break the soft skin that’s just at the base of your neck. 

It spans out in an ache, from the column of your throat down into your shoulder. Kanaya breathes through her nose as she feeds, and her drinking tugs. The blood pulls from your veins, curiously, and her hair tickles against your chin as her slender body twists. It isn’t like you’re worried about her killing you. It’s strange that, when your blood was so casually precious to you, it was the colour that stained the ground most easily. Kanaya won’t take too much of it, of course, but you could, in theory, fill a bathtub and drown the spiders inside and not even care a little bit.


End file.
